We heard the rumble of guns and started in a hurry after the column.  Sergeant Merchant’s bicycle—­our spare, a Rudge—­burnt out its clutch, and we left it in exchange for some pears at a cottage with a delicious garden in Champbreton.  Doue was a couple of miles farther on.

Colonel Sawyer, D.D.M.S., stopped me anxiously, and asked me to go and see if I could recognise the despatch rider’s corpse.  I meditated over it for a few minutes, then ran on to the signal-office by the roadside.  There I exchanged my old bike for a new one which had been discovered in a cottage.  Nothing was wrong with my ancient grid except a buckled back rim, due to collision with a brick when riding without a lamp.  One of the company rode it quietly to Serches, then it went on the side-car, and was eventually discarded at Beuvry.

I found the Division very much in action.  The object of the Germans was, by an obstinate rearguard action, to hold first the line of the Petit Morin and second the line La Ferte to the hills north of Mery, so that their main body might get back across the Marne and continue northward their retreat, necessitated by our pressure on their flank.  This retreat again was to be as slow as possible, to prevent an outflanking of the whole.

Our object was obviously to prevent them achieving theirs.

Look at the map and grasp these three things:—­

     1.  The two rivers—­the Petit Morin debouching so as to cover
     the German left centre.

      2.  From La Ferte westwards the rivers run in deep ravines,
     hemmed in by precipitous thickly-wooded hills.

      3.  Only two bridges across the Marne remained—­one large
     one at La Ferte and one small one at Saacy.

When I arrived at Doue the Germans were holding the Forest of Jouarre in force.  They were in moderate force on the south bank of the Petit Morin, and had some guns, but not many, on the north bank.

Here is a tale of how glory may be forced upon the unwilling.

There were troops on the road running south from Jouarre.  They might be Germans retreating.  They might be the 3rd Corps advancing.  The Staff wanted to know at once, and, although a despatch rider had already been sent west to ride up the road from the south, it was thought that another despatch rider skirting the east side of the Bois de Jouarre might find out more quickly.  So the captain called for volunteers.

[Illustration:  THE MARNE (LAGNY TO CHATEAU-THIERRY)]

Now one despatch rider had no stomach for the job.  He sat behind a tree and tried to look as if he had not heard the captain’s appeal.  The sergeant in charge had faith in him and, looking round, said in a loud voice, “Here is Jones!” (it is obviously impolitic for me to give even his nickname, if I wish to tell the truth).  The despatch rider jumped up, pretended he knew nothing of what was going forward, and asked what was required.  He was told, and with sinking heart enthusiastically volunteered for the job.